


The Eye of the Beholder

by ClareGuilty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Moira O'Deorain, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom Angie, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Glasses, Moira is a big ADHD mood, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: Moira appeared to be doinganythingbut working. Her wrinkled lab coat hung over the back over her chair. She was sitting on one of the tables with her legs crossed and her tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the top to exposed the pale, freckled planes of her chest. A cigarette, likely not her first, dangled carelessly between her fingers.Moira is annoying and insufferable. It's up to Angela to put her in her place.





	The Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> I really like dom Angie and I also really like Rebellious Disaster Gay™ Moira

Angela’s tennis shoes squeaked on the freshly cleaned floors of the medbay. She passed by the rows of hospital beds that were slowly filling up as more and more agents returned from the field, each with more severe wounds than the last. Her eyes didn’t stray from her datapad, intently reading through the influx of reports as she shifted her coffee into the crook of her elbow and scanned her palm against the door to the research labs.

The door slid open and she returned her coffee to her right hand, taking a large gulp as she made her way to her desk.

“What do you think you’re doing smoking in the lab?” She asked, not even bothering to turn. It smelled bad enough considering the amount of coffee the two of them went through -- maybe she should ask Ana for some tea recommendations -- the last thing they needed was the lingering smell of cigarettes.

“Breaking the rules,” Came Moira’s terse reply. Angela afforded her a quick glance as she gathered the coffee cups from yesterday and set them aside to make room for the full cup she had brought with her.

Moira appeared to be doing _anything_ but working. Her wrinkled lab coat hung over the back over her chair. She was sitting on one of the tables with her legs crossed and her tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the top to exposed the pale, freckled planes of her chest. A cigarette, likely not her first, dangled carelessly between her fingers. 

“You look very rebellious,” Angela noted smartly. “Now take your rule breaking outside. This is a _medical facility, um Gottes willen._ ”

Moira lazily untwisted her legs and slid off the edge of the table. She took another drag as she sauntered towards the back door of the lab. At least she wasn’t going near the _patients_ with her terrible habit.

“ _All_ the way outside,” Angela chided. Moira made an offensive gesture with her hand and breezed out of the lab, leaving Angela with valuable silence.

The caduceus staff was suspended in hard light over Angela’s work station. It glowed faintly as she approached the table, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her contacts were a necessity out in the field, but she had spent such long hours in the lab the past few days, it was easier to just grab the black, rectangular frames each morning before she went in search of a coffee.

The caduceus needed an upgrade to its biotic tether. Angela’s growing involvement in field missions meant that she needed to be able to heal from a farther distance and at a much higher rate. Torbjorn had already taken care of the mechanical requirements, and it was up to Angela to integrate the biotics. She was entirely capable of doing it herself; it just took up a lot of time.

Angela only had two complaints about taking on the project: firstly, she was unable to spend time out in the med bay with patients; and secondly, she had to share the lab with Moira.

Dr. O’Deorain was the bittersweet thorn in Angela’s side. Intelligent, productive, charming, handsome. Working alongside Moira wouldn’t have been a problem if she wan’t so _insufferable_.

It was like the geneticist was trying to break Angela, always pushing and poking and prodding to see what would make her snap. So far, Angela had been nothing but professional as she scolded the older woman. She was an entire decade younger. Why did it feel like she was always chastising someone ten years her senior for the impudence of a child?

Moira infuriated and captivated Angela. She was brilliant, but downright obnoxious. Long hours spent taunting each other from across the room. Moira’s unaffected and smug grin as she pointed out a flaw in Angela’s work. Her ridiculous posture as she splayed all 190cm of herself across every available surface. Angela wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch the woman or take her to bed.

Not that Moira would ever give Angela a second glance. Dr. Angela Ziegler, a timid healer with dark circles she could never sleep off and barely a tenth of the charm and class that seemed to emanate from Moira.

Especially now, in her scrubs and her glasses, hair tied back in a ponytail that could have looked better. Her shoulders were stiff from leaning over her workstation, lab coat wrinkled from constantly being crumpled up and tossed aside. Even if Angela tried to look nice, Moira could never look past the disheveled mess she was in the lab. Why even bother?

Moira sauntered back in nearly half an hour later. Whatever she was working on clearly didn’t need any kind of dedicated attention because she slouched into a swivel chair and began spinning in lazy circles. Three meticulous turns clockwise, three meticulous turns counter clockwise. The motion was constant on the edge of Angela’s vision. It was driving her mad.

The biotic components clicked into place -- and then clattered out to the table below. Angela groaned in frustration, rubbing her temples and backing away from the table.

“Moira, could you-” She sighed. “Could you please just see what I’m doing wrong over here? I’ve been trying to get these pieces in for an hour now and I’m about to lose my shit.”

Irritated beyond anything she had experience before, Angela was surprised when Moira’s silhouette filled her vision. “Take a break, _coinín_ ,” she urged. Slender fingers plucked Angela’s hands from her temples and dropped them at her side, reaching back up to straighten her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have it figured out when you return.”

Angela left the lab flushed bright red and unbelievably flustered. Her blind walk to the rec room brought her into the company of Ana, who helped to ease her mind and calm her enough that she was able to return to the lab. She had even offered the gift the young doctor some tea, but Angela waved her off -- she needed something a little stronger.

True to her word, Moira had assembled the infernal components by the time Angela staggered back into the lab with a second cup of coffee. Moira raised an eyebrow at the steaming drink, shifting her gaze to the nearly empty cup already abandoned on Angela’s desk.

“We all have our vices,” she shrugged as she placed her second cup beside its forgotten predecessor. Glancing over the parts that Moira had installed, she let out a relieved sigh. They looked perfect.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Not a problem,” Moira said. She seemed to have finally began working on something. Angela knew better than to pay too much attention to whatever she was doing. It was probably dreadful.

The hours ticked by in relative silence. Both women were in and out intermittently as different needs demanded their attention, but they always returned to the lab.

Reaching for the top of her head, Angela patted around for a few seconds before blinking in confusion and moving to tug at the collar of her scrubs.

“Moira?” she called. “I hate to bother you again, but I’ve misplaced my glasses.” Her eyes search frantically over her desk, patting all of her available pockets as she tried to find the offending spectacles.

Moira seemed to materialize at Angela’s side, black frames dangling in her grip.

“Oh, thank you,” Angela quickly put them back on. “They’re terribly unflattering and hard to keep up with, but it’s just not worth it to put my contacts in these days.”

“What a strange way to pronounce ‘stunning’,” Moira mused. “Dr. Ziegler, you really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

It took nearly half a second for Angela to realize she was being complimented. “Oh,” she blinked, “Moira, you’re really too kind.”

“Do not spread such falsities about my character,” she said with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t dream of tarnishing your reputation.” Angela rolled her eyes. Her cheeks glowed pink from the earlier compliment. She never would have though that her glasses looked nice. They were simple, made her look bookish if anything. What did Moira see through the lenses that she couldn’t?

Her wonder soon faded to a familiar annoyance as Moira resumed her slow circles. One of her legs was draped over the arm of the chair in the strangest posture Angela had ever seen. How was that even comfortable?

An ink pen materialized in Moira’s hand, and Angela seethed as an incessant, repeated clicking began to bounce around the room.

“Do you have nothing better to do than just lounge about in the lab at ten o’ clock at night? This is the best use of your time?” Angela demanded, turning to glare at Moira, whose head was now hanging off the back of the chair, observing the world upside down.

Moira shrugged and righted herself. “I’m mostly just waiting for my samples to be ready.”

“Maybe you should be less distracting in your waiting,” the blonde quipped.

Moira stood, crossing the lab in four easy strides. She towered over Angela, hardly any space between them. “Maybe you should work on being less distractible.” She trailed her knuckle down Angela’s cheek, sliding across her bottom lip. The younger woman shivered. Her eyes fell closed for half a second as Moira’s slender fingers slipped to the nape of Angela’s neck.

Her lips were cold, an unusual fact on anyone other than Moira. Angela wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she didn’t even have a pulse. She was surprised at just how _amazing_ the kiss felt. Moira pulled her in close, Angela’s hips pressed against Moira’s thighs as the taller woman leaned down to meet her. 

One of Angela’s hands grabbed Moira’s tie, pulling her in so she could deepen the kiss. When the parted, Moira wore a bemused expression.

“You are severely mistaken if you think I’m going to let you whisk me off my feet. I won’t bend to your will just because you strut around here like some classic rock star.” Angela leveled a stern look at Moira from behind her glasses.

“I would never dream of such a thing, Dr. Ziegler,” Moira said, voice low.

“Lock the door,” Angela ordered. She moved to her own chair, removing her lab coat and scrubs. A strange, powerful feeling was coursing through her. Finally, a chance to put Moira in her place. To demand obedience and respect from the otherwise unruly geneticist. There was no room for shame or embarrassment when Moira was so quick to obey as a flush crept up her neck.

“Kneel,” Angela pointed to the ground before her chair. She was the image of sophistication, legs crossed, chin high, blonde waves cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes were cold and bright, only made more intimidating by her glasses.

Without hesitation, Moira dropped to her knees before Angela, head bowed as though she were praying to the Angel of Mercy of herself. The Angel merely smiled and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward to place a finger under Moira’s chin. She lifted the Irishwoman as though resurrecting her, stealing another kiss before settling back in the chair.

“This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” Angela asked as she spread her legs ever so slowly. “All of your petty rebellion, all of the shameless rulebreaking -- you just needed someone to put you in your place.”

“Only you,” Moira said. “It could only be you.”

“Of course,” Angela was practically drunk with the power. Nothing had ever felt like this before, to have someone as powerful as Moira completely at her mercy. “What do you want?”

Moira had never looked more desperate in all the years Angela had known her. Her pupils were blown wide, flushed all the way to her ears, shiny pink lips parted in the beginnings of a plea.

Angela tilted her head, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Can I taste you?” Moira breathed.

Angela dragged her forward by her hair, delighting in the low moan that escaped before she was buried between perfectly soft thighs.

The first perfect swipe of Moira’s tongue made Angela gasp and arch into the touch. Moira began licking and sucking at Angela’s pussy, moaning against her slick skin. There was nothing she wanted more. So many months working in such close quarters with Angela, heat pooling between her legs every time the blonde grew a bit too impatient. The moment when her remarks would turn from annoyed to scathing, when her gaze would narrow and she would shoot a glare at Moira.

And those glasses. Those _damn_ glasses. As if she wasn’t perfect already, those thin black frames only made her more elegant, only accentuated her brilliance. And now she was staring down at Moira looking delightfully arrogant as she rocked her hips against Moira’s tongue.

“Look at you,” Angela crooned, voice breathy and raw with pleasure. “All you needed was a place at my feet, a firm hand to guide you to obedience.” She tugged at Moira’s hair for good measure. It was worth it to feel the redhead moan as she closed her lips around Angela’s clit.

“So desperate, so needy. Licking my pussy like a good little pet. You would do anything I asked of you, yes? Whatever it took to please me?”

Moira’s eyes fluttered shut as Angela’s filthy words washed over her. She sank into the chastising, letting herself fall deeper and deeper into Angela’s control. Her tongue dragged slowly over Angela’s clit. All she knew was the desire to make Angela come. The need to please the woman whom she knelt before.

“Oh,” Angela gasped. “I’m close. Don’t stop. Make me come.” Both of her hands were on Moira’s head, nails scratching at her scalp.

It was what Moira wanted most desperately. As she circled Angela’s clit and gripped her hips tightly. Every moan and whine from Angela’s lips only encouraged her further. She wanted to feel Angela come across her lips, feel her spill onto Moira’s tongue.

She was rewarded with a loud cry. Angela shuddering and gasping as Moira continued to lick at her pussy. She refused to stop until shaky hands pulled her away, dragging her from Angela’s sensitive pussy.

She waited patiently, obediently, as Angela regained her composure, straightening her glasses as looking down at Moira with a smile.

“Such a good pet,” she cooed, and Moira ducked her head. Praise had never meant so much to her until it fell from those perfect lips.

Angela moved to stand and Moira was by her side in a second, helping the young doctor to her feet and holding her close as she giggled and clung to Moira’s shirt.

“I wasn’t too harsh was I?” Angela asked. Her expression was suddenly more vulnerable. Moira could see the doubt creeping in where her confidence had once resided.

“You were wonderful,” Moira held her close. “It was exactly what I needed.”

It took a bit of searching, but Moira managed to find all of Angela’s clothes. She delivered them back, only to be pulled in by the tie as Angela dragged her down for a sloppy kiss. She was stunned as Angela tasted herself on Moira’s tongue.

A strangled cry escaped Moira as Angela worked her belt open, pulling insistently at her trousers until she would work her hand under Moira’s briefs.

“ _Mein Gott_ , you’re wet,” she teased. “I think something needs to be done about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Clare_Guilty)
> 
> I have other fics on my [Tumblr](https://clareguilty.tumblr.com/)!


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